Ninja Hands
by The Luggage
Summary: Hands can tell you a lot about a person, especially when you're a ninja...


**AN/** Well, here it is. My first fic ever, and it was inspired by a multitude of gorgeous Irukashi fanart. Especially the hands, for some reason. Iruka/Kakashi, no warnings.

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It always amazed Kakashi how steady Iruka's hands were. Not just when he was writing with his calligraphy brushes, but all the damn time. Not like his. Even though adrenaline highs were nothing new to Kakashi, his hands still shook every time he'd completed another mission. And not only would they be shaking, but he'd often have another shiny new scar to add to his already…impressive collection. 

Was impressive the right word? For something that carried so many memories, memories that would make a civilian swear off sleeping for the rest of his life, impressive didn't seem like the right word. It wasn't grim enough, it didn't hint at the anguish and blood and sweat and pain behind each and every damn scar.

Eh. He could always ask Iruka. Iruka was good with words. Sure, he'd give Kakashi that soft look of his that wasn't quite sympathy, and wasn't quite pity, but something else… He was a shinobi though. He could handle it.

On his way to Iruka's small-but-cozy apartment, Kakashi continued mulling over Iruka's hands. He wasn't quite sure why, but the sheer amount of contrasts between his battle-scarred, former ANBU fingers, and Iruka's ink-stained, artist's hands was oddly compelling.

Kakashi's unruly memory decided to cooperate, for once, and brought up one of the many times Iruka had held Kakashi after a particularly stressful mission. Stressful, meaning that there had been a lot of blood and more death.

After his shower, once they were on Iruka's lumpy old couch, and Kakashi had his head in Iruka's lap, the shakes had really set in. Weirdly enough, the one thing that really stood out in Kakashi's memory was Iruka's calluses. They weren't from kunai or shuriken, or even from the sparring and training that most active ninja did every day. Pens and brushes. His calluses were from holding a pen every day, using it to mark tests and essays, and to prepare tomorrow's lessons. They felt odd, when Iruka ran his hands over Kakashi's bare shoulders, and when they caught on the mask that was usually pushed down around his neck like a collar. They didn't feel like ninja hands, but were all the more soothing for it.

Looking down at his own hands as he sped across Konoha's specially reinforced rooftops, (reinforced, because after all, the roofs were essentially the ninja highway), Kakashi noticed another small, yet somehow glaring difference. He wore shinobi gloves, functional and fingerless. Iruka didn't. That simple lack said a lot about their daily activities. The gloves were designed to protect a ninja's hands in combat, because after all, without their hands, most ninjas are dead. Kakashi needed them. Most of the time, Iruka didn't.

Kakashi's hands were great for seals: long, slender fingers, lots of flexibility and dexterity, and the tiny criss-crossing scars barely interfered with seal formation. It was something he'd always felt mildly proud of. For all that Iruka's hands were artistic and pretty, he wasn't nearly as adept at seal forming as Kakashi. Although, that was most likely due to a lack of practice, not a lack of skill. Which still didn't keep Kakashi from teasing Iruka about it, of course.

Looking up just in time to avoid a nasty mid-air collision with a young Leaf chuunin and waving an apology back to the irate shinobi, Kakashi realized he had arrived at Iruka's apartment. Feeling rather impressed with his well-trained feet, and using a judicious application of chakra, he strolled down the side of the building to the third-story window.

Casually, Kakashi let himself in, made a mental note to change Iruka's locks, and scanned the living space for Iruka. Ah. He was in on that couch in the living room, grading reports. As he strolled in and leered at Iruka's back, bent over the small coffee table, Kakashi wondered how long it would take Iruka to notice him. He was thus given a rude surprise when Iruka waved distractedly at him, motioning him to come sit down.

"How'd you know I was there?" Kakashi groused good-naturedly. Iruka just smiled, and continued chewing on the battered end of his pen.

Kakashi settled deeper into the couch, smiled under his mask, and watched Iruka and his hands.

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**Notes:** Concrit, comments and feedback will be adored without reservation. 


End file.
